


Sweet Syrup

by badumtsh



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, Oral Sex, Pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badumtsh/pseuds/badumtsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having days off, Natasha decided, was nice. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had time to make the pancakes she was currently enjoying.</p>
<p>Or, Clint eats Natasha out while she eats pancakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Syrup

**Author's Note:**

> Those tags seem a bit excessive but idk man I like to include everything. Honestly I love this pairing so goddamn much and I have so many wips but this is the first one I've actually finished, so I hope I can finish all my others at some point!
> 
> I started writing this a good two years ago, so it's set a bit after the first Avengers movie. Unbeta'd so if there are mistakes, it's my fault.
> 
> Obviously, everything belongs to Marvel.

Having days off, Natasha decided, was nice. Otherwise, she wouldn't have had time to make the pancakes she was currently enjoying.

She had never eaten pancakes until shortly after joining S.H.I.E.L.D., she had casually mentioned that little fact to Clint and he was appalled, so he did the only logical thing and took her to a diner where she proceeded to devour about five of them, all with a different flavored syrup. He later taught her how to make pancakes herself, and she credits that as the start of their friendship.

Natasha took another syrup-drenched bite as she wondered where the archer was. He had spent the night on her private floor in Stark Tower, but she had woken up to an empty bed. She tugged on the shirt she was wearing (one of Clint’s she had absentmindedly pulled on after waking up) and sniffed it. He had worn it yesterday and it still smelled vaguely of aftershave and the unique smell that simply _was_ Clint. If he didn't come back soon, Natasha figured she could work out for a bit after breakfast, but seeing as she didn't have any pressing obligations, it would be as good a time as ever to start some paperwork she’d been behind on. She grimaced. Maybe if she ate these pancakes as slowly as possible she wouldn't have to ever start it.

Her thoughts were interrupted at the sound of the door opening, and Clint wandered into the kitchen area holding a black duffel bag. He dropped it when he saw what she was wearing, making Natasha hide a smirk with her hand. She knows all too well about the thrill he gets when she wears his clothing. (She found out about it the morning after their first time; she put on his wrinkled button-down and lightly shook him awake, only to have him immediately carry her to the hotel bathroom and fuck her from behind in front of the huge mirror, pawing at her breasts through the shirt. That was a memory Natasha held near and dear to her heart.)

“Hey, Nat,” Clint said, walking to her and dropping a quick kiss on her lips. His gaze dropped down to the plate of pancakes in front of her. “Aw, you made pancakes without me,” he said, using a tone of voice to exaggerate how upset he was.

“Well, you weren't here when I woke up, and I was hungry,” Natasha said pointedly, taking another bite. “Where were you anyway?” Clint was stroking her hair, and he kissed her on the cheek, but she wouldn't let that distract her.

“Yeah…sorry about that, I got called in about a mission, that’s what the duffel bag is for,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of where he had dumped it on the floor.

“What is it?”

“That’s what’s weird, it’s just data extraction, it seems too easy,” Clint answered, and Natasha turned around to look at him straight on.

“Is Fury pissed at you or something?” she asked, not unkindly.

Clint shrugged, “This whole Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. thing is screwing with me, it’s screwing with everyone, I think. There’s so much going on you’d think they’d assign me on a different job.” Natasha wondered if maybe that was actually the reason he was assigned a simple mission—they all needed a breather after what they've been through.

“Who knows what goes on back at HQ,” Natasha said, looking down at her feet, then back up at Clint, “So when are you going? And where?”

“Tuesday. And Prague.” It was Saturday. Clint stepped forward and put his arms around Natasha’s waist to pull her closer, nuzzling his nose in her neck. A rush of heat spread through her body, and she masked it with a laugh.

“God, aren't _you_ handsy today,” she teased, turning around in his arms to face the counter again. He grinned at her and tugged the t-shirt she was wearing, _his_ t-shirt.

“What are you doing wearing this, anyhow?” he teased right back. Natasha felt one of his hands move over her ass and she stared straight at her plate of pancakes to distract herself.

“Oh, I don’t know, I just picked it up,” Clint’s hand traveled to her mound and gripped, causing her to nearly drop her fork, “and I put it on because it smells like you.” Natasha was so wet it was embarrassing and there was so much heat in her abdomen she couldn't stand it. Dammit, there was nothing she wanted more than for Clint to pick her up and fuck her ragged against the counter, breakfast be damned. Fortunately, it seemed he had that idea too.

“Well, this shirt is my property that you stole, so why don’t you give it back now,” he teased, breath hot on her ear. Natasha was about to quip back when his fingers slipped into her panties and stroked her folds, so she gripped his wrist and cursed instead. His hands were heavy and warm on her, and she traced the veins jutting out with her own fingers, but she had no intention of conceding victory until he lightly bit her earlobe and whispered, “Take it off,” in a voice that revealed he was just as aroused as she was. Obediently, Natasha pulled off the shirt to Clint’s obvious delight.

His right hand gave her ass one last squeeze, before it traveled up her body and grabbed one of her breasts. Clint’s clever fingers slipped inside her cunt as he played with her nipple, and Natasha tightened up so hard it made Clint’s breath hitch, she noticed, smirking. He bent the fingers inside of her and brushed against her walls until she squirmed on top of his hand, grinding down to get some more friction, needing to get off and fuck, he was whispering in her ear again.

“You’re fucking wet,” he growled, “can I go down on you?”

“Oh god yes, please.”

Clint chuckled and kissed the back of her neck before proceeding to kiss his way down her back, fingers still pumping in and out of her. He pulled them out as he got down to his knees and the feeling of his hot breath over her made Natasha’s legs shake. She resisted the urge to look down at him over her shoulder, preferring to be surprised at what he was going to do with her. Two fingers on both sides of her hips pulled her thin panties down her legs, and she stood on each foot so Clint could take them off completely. Her partner’s wide thumbs spreading her cheeks apart were the only warning she got before his mouth was over her pussy, tongue thrusting in her opening.

When it came to sex, Natasha found Clint really _really_ liked eating pussy. She wasn't exactly sure whether it was the taste, the idea of making someone come hard, or some sort of combination of the two but she certainly wasn't complaining. She’ll always remember the first time they had sex and he had nearly begged her to sit on his face and proceeded to give her two mind-blowing orgasms with just his tongue and fingers (it’s a memory she keeps close to her when she’s away from him for a long time on a mission and needs some, ahem, relief.)

Natasha let out a sharp gasp and thrust her ass back into Clint’s face, trying to get some, _any_ , friction. He let go of one of her ass cheeks and snuck his hand in front of his chin to tug on her clit, pinching it between the rough pads of his thumb and forefinger. She still gripped her fork tightly in one hand, while holding onto the counter for dear life with the other. The pancakes still sat half eaten, cooling by the second, and Natasha quickly cut off another piece with the side of the fork and stuffed it into her mouth. Clint must have heard her chewing because he pulled his face away from her and looked up at her face which was currently stuffed full of pancake. He grinned. Bastard.

Natasha swallowed quickly, “Quit distracting me, can’t you see I’m trying to eat?” she teased, dropping her hand from the counter and flicking his forehead with her thumb and middle finger.

“Well so am I,” he answered, tugging hard on her clit again and if Natasha had been devising a comeback to that, well, she just forgot it, opting instead to let out an embarrassing squeak, much to Clint’s delight. He attacked her pussy again with fervor, licking a long stripe starting at her clitoris and ending just before her asshole. He moved his face back to rub two thick fingers through her folds, getting them nice and wet, and that was Natasha’s only warning before he plunged them inside her. She bent forward, collapsing onto her elbows, but first dropping her fork and pushing the plate of pancakes farther forward so as not to get any loose strands of hair caught in the syrup (but not before taking another bite). Clint was no longer licking her pussy, but instead spreading rather light kisses across the backs of her thighs and the swell of her ass, contrasting the speed of his now three fingers pumping into her pussy.

Natasha paused for a second to soak in the moment—specifically that she now lived a life where it wasn't unusual to get handfucked by her best friend in her kitchen first thing in the morning. She would definitely have to make more pancakes for him after this…a job well done deserves reward, right?

The fingers in her pussy disappeared and all it took was a sharp slap on the ass for Natasha to come. She put her face on the counter and moaned while Clint pumped his fingers back into her, wringing everything he could out of her until she was gasping and her thighs trembled. Clint stood up as Natasha turned around, but she moved so quickly and her legs were still unsteady that she stumbled. Clint quickly grabbed her hips, steadying her, and gave her a long kiss. Natasha responded in kind, throwing her arms around his neck and sucking on his tongue, tasting her salty-sweet flavor.

Clint pulled back a bit, covering his mouth, “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot my face was still wet.” He reached behind her to grab a dish towel from the counter but she stopped him with a shake of her head.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, then glanced down at his kiss-swollen lips, still shining, “I kind of like it, actually.” Clint grinned and kissed her deeply.

With a hitch in her breath, Natasha felt Clint’s erection in his jeans pressing against her thigh, and she broke the kiss to look between them.

“So…” she started, sliding her hand down his chest, stomach, then palming his crotch, eliciting a light grunt from him, “how do you want it, hot shot?” Clint chuckled, that low sound deep in his throat that made Natasha clench her thighs just a bit.                                                      

“Honestly, whatever you have in mind is probably fine by me,” he said as he moved his hands from her hips to cup her ass, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go.

Natasha dropped to her knees and looked up at Clint, opened her mouth, and slowly licked her lips, never breaking eye contact.

The distressed sound Clint made after that he would deny when Natasha brought it up later that day. 


End file.
